


A Winter's Tale of Blood and Duty

by marguerite_26



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:20:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marguerite_26/pseuds/marguerite_26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Draco clings to the tattered remains of his family, Harry attempts to define himself in the post-war world. Disturbing events at Malfoy Manor bring them together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Winter's Tale of Blood and Duty

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my betas [](http://vaysh11.livejournal.com/profile)[**vaysh11**](http://vaysh11.livejournal.com/), [](http://absynthedrinker.livejournal.com/profile)[**absynthedrinker**](http://absynthedrinker.livejournal.com/), [](http://melusinahp.livejournal.com/profile)[**melusinahp**](http://melusinahp.livejournal.com/), and [](http://libby-drew.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://libby-drew.livejournal.com/)**libby_drew**. 
> 
>  
> 
> originally posted March, 2009

The shattered glass covering the floor of the ballroom glittered in the early morning light. Wind whistled through the open panes, filling the hall with frigid air. Draco tucked his hands into the pockets of his dressing gown. The click of heels behind him was interrupted by the gritty, grinding sound of the shards underfoot.

He did not turn around as his mother stepped up beside him. He had no interest in seeing the pained expression on her face.

"Draco."

"I know, Mother."

"There is no other way. We must involve him."

Draco gnawed the inside of his cheek and turned. She had aged these last few months, the deepening lines around her eyes betraying the unspoken words between them.

"Pigle!" An ancient house-elf appeared instantly at his elbow. "Clean this up as best you can. Have the windows replaced and the Shatter-proof Charms strengthened. Mother and I will be out this afternoon."

Pigle nodded and set to work Vanishing the remnants of the ballroom windows.

  
**~o~**   


With his head ducked low against the cold, Harry made his way through the bustle of Diagon Alley. The tiny doorway was unmarked, but fit the description on his invitation. The door was heavy, and coupled with the wind, it nearly shut again before Harry could slip through.

The restaurant was tiny. Of the half dozen tables, only one was occupied. Narcissa and Draco Malfoy sat waiting in silence.

Harry noted their expressions at once: Draco's face was pinched in a scowl; Narcissa had the slightest crease between her brows. Neither was happy to be there, though Harry guessed it was for different reasons.

When Narcissa caught his glance, Harry joined them. The moment he sat, a linen napkin floated into his lap. Clearly the infamous Ministry reparations hadn't influenced the Malfoys' choice of restaurants.

"Wine, Auror Potter?" Narcissa motioned to the server.

Harry placed his palm over his wine glass then pushed his water goblet forwards. "No thank you. I'm on duty."

"You're not even a _proper_ Auror," Malfoy snapped.

"I'm still not permitted to drink," Harry retorted.

Malfoy smirked and lifted his glass in a mock toast. Two minutes in and Malfoy had already found Harry's sore spot. Pressured by Kingsley, Robards had accepted Harry into the Auror Training Program prior to completing his NEWTs. It landed Harry no further ahead. Robards and the senior Aurors' resentment of Harry's special treatment had only increased over the last four years. Harry's training and attempts at advancement were continually undermined. The animosity towards him had become part of the office culture, something to which even the newer recruits quickly adapted.

"Thank you for accepting our invitation, Auror Potter," Narcissa said as if she hadn't heard the exchange.

"Auror-in-training," Malfoy muttered into his menu.

Narcissa shot him a steely look. Malfoy pretended not to notice, but his cheeks brightened.

Harry glanced at the menu and decided on the chicken breast. It had the greatest number of ingredients he recognised, and the least number he didn't. "I have to be back by half one."

Narcissa nodded and made eye contact with the waiter. The waiter took the lunch orders and left with a short bow.

Harry glanced at Malfoy. He was staring hard at the markings on the cutlery, running his finger back and forth along the engraved fleur-de-lis. He had aged well, grown into those pointy features. A shade on the thin side, but without the scowl he was rather pleasing. Harry idly wondered if Malfoy was seeing someone, and, if so, of which gender. Malfoy was rarely seen about town.

"Mr. Potter, I've asked you here because we are in need of your help," Narcissa began. Her voice was aloof, but her eyes were grave. "We are concerned about our safety."

"Are you being threatened? If you feel you need Auror protection, we'll need you to file a report." He would need to follow procedure to the letter if he was ever going to convince Robards he was ready to become a full Auror.

"No, Auror Potter." Narcissa evaluated him for a moment before she continued. "We are not looking for Auror protection. Something has come up at the Manor which we believe may be of particular interest to you. In an _unofficial_ capacity."

Narcissa allowed the food's arrival to interrupt the conversation. Harry discreetly moved the grapes and mushrooms off his chicken – who would put grapes on chicken anyway? – while he considered his response. 'Unofficial capacity' sounded like a sure way to earn himself yet another year of the wonderful Ministry training program.

Narcissa added, "Mr. Potter, this matter is of the utmost importance. I would consider your help in this matter fulfillment of your life debt to me."

Harry coughed on the morsel of chicken he'd just popped into his mouth. Quickly, he downed half of his water. As he placed it back on the table, the waiter immediately refilled it and disappeared again. "I'm not sure how much I can do. I'm in training all day. That hardly leaves me time to conduct an investigation. If we could go through the proper channels –"

"We cannot," Narcissa said. "This must remain between us. If you agree, we will discuss this further at the Manor." The implied 'in private' was obvious as she looked about the restaurant.

Harry put down his fork and wiped his damp palms on his trousers beneath the table. He glanced to Malfoy who was watching him intently, his face unreadable.

Before Harry could voice any of the questions running through his head, Narcissa added, "This threat to us may, over time, become a threat to others. Do consider all consequences of your decision. Now, let us finish our meal in peace."

They ate in a tense silence. The food was far too rich and unusual for Harry's palate. These were flavours and etiquette reserved for Ministry functions and uncomfortable first dates; Harry had come to dread both. When only the grapes and some sort of leafy green that looked like tiny ferns were left on his plate, Harry pushed his chair back. "Thank you for lunch. I need to get back."

"My pleasure, Auror Potter," Narcissa replied in a charming sing-song tone. Harry's eyes flickered to Malfoy. His head was bowed, jaw clenched. The twenty-Galleon salmon in front of him was untouched.

  
**~o~**   


Harry jogged through the Ministry and ducked into his cubicle before anyone could see him arriving late. He cursed under his breath; Dawlish was sitting in Harry's chair, feet on Harry's desk, waiting for him.

"You're late. The rest of the _trainees_ left ten minutes ago." Dawlish didn't even bother looking up, but continued to use Harry's favourite quill to dig at the grime beneath his fingernails. "The boss said you're to do my filing. Apparently, if you can't be trusted to cast a proper _Tempus_ , you can't be trusted to learn the fine art of _Stealth and Tracking_."

Harry sighed and straightened the picture frame Dawlish's feet had knocked over - Ginny, Ron and Hermione smiled and waved. Dawlish whispered in mock sympathy, "That Ginny Weasley's pretty fit. Too bad she found a bloke with a bigger sword, yeah?"

Harry rolled his eyes. He'd heard Dawlish's many variations of that same theory since the day the _Prophet_ announced Ginny and Neville's engagement. The truth of it was, Harry's _sword_ was likely more interested in Neville than Ginny. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone. And certainly not Dawlish.

Dawlish chuckled and patted the messy stack of parchment that now rested on Harry's desk. "I'll be back in a couple hours to give you the next bunch." He waggled his fingers in a mock wave and left.

A moment later, Stevens, the department's newest trainee, hurried by Harry's office. He offered a rushed wave to Harry before continuing past and calling out, "Dawlish! Am I late? I was caught up at the Leaky."

From down the corridor, Dawlish shushed Stevens. Harry reached for his extendable ears.

"…Portkey in my office. They'll be starting in ten minutes, better hurry," Dawlish whispered.

"What about Potter?"

Dawlish laughed. "Our great hero doesn't need anything but an Expelliarmus! This is just a waste of his time, don't you think?"

Stevens gave a confused cough-chuckle, not yet accustomed to the department's running joke.

Harry gritted his teeth. This was the tenth training session he'd been held back from in as many weeks. Their excuses were getting flimsier; Harry's patience was getting thinner.

Not long after, an eagle owl swooped towards his cubicle.

_Thank you for meeting with us today, Auror Potter. Your generosity of spirit is as well known as your valour. Should you choose to accept our request, join us at Malfoy Manor this Saturday at one in the afternoon._  
Ask to speak directly to me.  
Regards,  
NM 

Harry stuffed the note in his pocket. The last thing he needed was to get mixed up with the Malfoys, yet the note read like a siren song. It had been too long since he had actually done something relevant, or felt a sense of duty towards anything.

Harry watched the tower of filing teeter dangerously close to his rubbish bin. He placed his hand on top to steady it, then opened his deepest drawer and slipped the entire pile inside.

He re-buttoned his cloak. Maybe George would let Ron bag off early for a Friday afternoon at the Leaky.

  
**~o~**   


Draco had barely hung up his cloak when a distraught Pigle appeared at his side.

"Master Draco," Pigle creaked, pulling at his papery white ears. "Master Draco, Pigle has found something terrible."

Draco groaned. His trip to Gringotts after lunch had been less productive than he'd hoped. The Malfoy estate had suffered significantly since the war, both due to the reparations paid to the Ministry and his father's recent negligence. He needed a few moments to collect his thoughts before the inevitable conversation over dinner.

"Can it wait?"

Pigle stretched his ears until the pointy tips touched below his wrinkled chin. "Sir, Pigle is not wanting to wait. Pigle is not wanting Mistress to see the blood."

The words 'see the blood' echoed through the high ceiling of the foyer. Draco shut his eyes and breathed deeply until he could find his voice. "Where?" he asked hoarsely.

Pigle's voice rose another octave as he replied in quick jumbled sentences. "The front garden. Pigle found it in the gazebo. Pigle is not wanting to speak to … anyone but Master Draco."

Draco nodded and grabbed his cloak.

The gazebo was just off the main walk, directly in front of the parlour. It took less than two minutes for Draco to reach it.

All around the gazebo, the ground was stained in red. The night before, a light dusting of snow had fallen, but parts of the stone path were visible where the larger spots of blood had melted the snow. Draco slowed his footsteps, his heart beating furiously in his ears.

"It is inside. Pigle did not clean. Pigle did not know what –"

"Stop pulling your damn ears!" Draco snapped.

"Pigle is sorry!" Pigle whimpered, tugging his ears harder and then shrieking at his disobedience.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's fine. Just … tell me what is in there, all right?"

"Pigle thinks it was a peacock, sir. Pigle saw feathers and … parts … Pigle can't be sure."

"Ugh, enough!" Draco felt his stomach roll as his imagination filled in the gaps. "An animal attack?"

He knew the answer even before the elf shook his head. The splatter marks on the white lattice work were dark in the fading light, the blood indistinguishable from ink.

"Master Draco?" Pigle asked finally.

Draco's feet had gone cold. He would need a shower before dinner. "Clean it up. Do whatever you have to. I don't want a trace of this mess visible by morning. Repaint the whole thing if you must. And not a word to anyone, Pigle."

  
**~o~**   


His father raised his glass and took a slow sip of wine. "You were out this afternoon, Draco." There was no need for him to word it as a question. The request for a full explanation was implicit.

Draco made sure not to look at his mother as he replied. "I went to Gringotts. I met with Calbek." That was true: after Draco had left Potter, he'd met with Gringotts' Senior Accounting Goblin for the Malfoy vaults.

"And what did _you_ have to say to Calbek? Flitting away the Malfoy fortune under my nose?"

Draco blinked up at his father. "I … no … Father, I am trying to be involved in the estate. We have investments that have been dwindling over the last few years. You know I am working to rebuild what has been lost."

Lucius's fist hit the table, upsetting his wine glass and making the plates jump.

Narcissa gasped and moved to Vanish the spill. Lucius stilled her hand with a look.

He rose and glared at Draco, his voice low and dangerous when he spoke. "I will not have you destroying our riches like you have shamed our name. You are a fool and a coward. Every night I wish that my son had thrown himself off the Astronomy Tower, rather than return to me a failure."

Lucius stormed out of the room; Draco didn't notice.

It always began with a tingling at the tips of his fingers. This time, it came too quickly. He didn't have enough time to leave the room, to warn his mother. Draco's lungs squeezed tight in his chest; he gasped for breath, trying to find a focus. His face hit the table as his stomach wrenched. He didn't dare move as the dining room flashed in colour, making him dizzy. If he stood now, he'd fall or vomit. Both were far too humiliating to consider.

His mother was at his side; he could hear her. Her voice was reassuring. Her hand gripped his shoulders. She was trying to get a potion to his mouth. Through the terror, he knew it would be over soon. The sense of dying, the painful ache in his chest would abate. He just needed to be still. The potion would calm him.

The panic attack dissipated quickly. But long after, Draco stayed were he was, cheek resting on the table, staring at the deep crimson of the wine splattered across the white table cloth.

  
**~o~**   


Ten minutes past one on Saturday, Harry stood at the gates of Malfoy Manor. The moment his hand made contact with the gate, an irate house-elf appeared. He looked twice Kreacher's age and even less pleasant.

"Harry Potter is making Mistress wait," he snapped in an oddly high-pitched voice. With a dramatic huff, the elf waved his hand and the wrought iron gate swung open. "Harry Potter is to follow Pigle. Quickly!"

The white-haired elf took off at an astonishing pace down the stone path. Harry was grateful the snow fall had made the walk to the Manor nearly unrecognizable from the time he'd been dragged along this same path by Fernir Greyback.

Pigle led Harry into an elegant parlour just off the main entrance. Malfoy and Narcissa were already waiting for him.

"Thank you for joining us, Auror Potter," Narcissa greeted him with a formal nod. Her tone was light, but sincere.

Malfoy was leaning on the windowsill, staring at the gardens. He did not look up. His only movement was a constant jiggling of his knee. Narcissa's eyes were on Pigle bustling about the room.

The moment Pigle clicked the door shut behind him, Narcissa turned to Harry, "My apologies for my abruptness, Auror Potter, but time is short. Do you intend to help us?"

Before Harry could respond Malfoy turned from the window. "Mother, there has to be another –"

"Draco, we must." Her voice trembled the slightest bit. To Harry's surprise, Malfoy did not argue, but returned his gaze to the window, pressing his forehead against the glass. Harry watched him for a moment, his pale eyes and hair iridescent in the bright sunshine.

Harry shook his head and tried to focus on Narcissa. He had practiced the exact wording. "If you need help and you are calling on your life debt, I am bound in honour to you."

Narcissa smiled. "Thank you." She sat and motioned for Harry to do the same. "Lucius will be joining us momentarily and I would like to discuss as much with you as possible before he arrives."

Neither Harry nor Narcissa spared a glance towards the window.

Narcissa smoothed over the slight wrinkle in her skirt, and started simply, "I began noticing things not long after the trials ended. Lucius under house arrest and wandless … it was hard on him."

Harry scowled.

"Mr Potter, I am not looking for your sympathy."

"Good, because you won't get it."

"I'm simply explaining the mood of the Manor at the time. Lucius had been acting strangely, withdrawn, often short tempered; these things were easily explained by the circumstances. But they did not improve with time. Rather, they have become worse over the years. There are times when he refuses to even speak with me. He spends his days in his study reading and making entries in his journals."

"Mrs. Malfoy, I don't see what –"

"Please, let me finish and trust that I did not invite the saviour of the wizarding world into my confidence in order to get marriage counselling."

From across the room, Malfoy snorted.

"About six months ago I happened upon him in the gardens and I heard him hissing. There was a garter snake wrapped around his wrist."

Harry's mind wanted to think it ridiculous, to chuckle at Lucius Malfoy losing his mind and thinking he could talk to a snake, but something in Narcissa's face made Harry's throat go dry.

"He was speaking Parseltongue, Mr. Potter."

"How do you know for sure?"

"I lived for a year with the Dark Lord and his familiar in my house. I know what Parseltongue sounds like. This was not dementia. He was communicating with the creature. I am sure of it."

"But before, had he never…?"

"Lucius Malfoy was not a Parselmouth. It would not have been something to hide. Had he possessed the ability, he would have declared it to everyone in our circle and found great favour for it."

The idea that someone would be proud of such a 'gift' was incomprehensible to Harry. It was forever linked in Harry's mind with the horrors he had faced in the Chamber of Secrets and helplessly watching Snape's murder. His own ability to speak to snakes had died with Voldemort. He'd believed that talent had become extinct with Salazar Slytherin's line.

Narcissa stood and spoke hurriedly, "There is more, but Lucius has just left his study. There have been things… I decided to place wards to inform me of his movements. I suggest that we explain your presence here as an Auror case. Let us say there has been a threat on the Malfoys and the attackers implied that they were able to infiltrate our wards. You are here to investigate the possibility."

Before Harry had time to process that, the door to the parlour opened and Lucius Malfoy entered.

Lucius looked as he always had, though maybe a stone thinner. His skin was severely pale, and his eyes were tired and sunken, though no more than Narcissa or Draco's.

The look he gave Harry was much the same as every look he'd ever given Harry: as if a three-day-dead Kneazle had been placed in his favourite chair.

Narcissa quickly crossed the room to greet him, explanation at the ready.

"Lucius, dear. Excellent. We have a visitor from the Ministry. Pigle! We'll be needing tea. It seems the Ministry believes we may be in danger."

Lucius eyes narrowed and pinned Harry. "Do they?"

"It appears they have received an anonymous threat. Someone is claiming to be able to get beyond our wards."

"And they are so concerned about our safety that they decided to send someone who is _training_ to be an Auror? Their concern is touching."

Harry counted to ten (twice) before he replied. "The Ministry deems all wizarding people in Britain to be entitled – equally – to protection." Harry paused to ensure his story fit with Narcissa's. "I have been sent to do a preliminary investigation as all Aurors are currently on other cases. We determined the threat plausible enough for immediate action."

"Indeed." Lucius sneered and sat while Pigle bustled about with setting the tea.

Harry glanced at Narcissa out of the corner of his eye and received the briefest nod.

"I think we are all in need of refreshment." With the flick of her wand the tea tray moved to the table nearest them. She carefully served them each a cup. They ate biscuits and drank Earl Grey with Narcissa commenting on the ghastly snow the cold snap had brought, Lucius scowling at Harry, and Malfoy fidgeting enough to nearly spill his tea. At one point, Harry and Malfoy reached for the same biscuit. Rather than fighting over it, they both snapped their hands away and opted for another sip of tea instead. Harry's stomach was in such knots he wasn't sure he could actually eat anything anyway.

That half hour of tea was one of the most surreal experiences of Harry's life.

Finally, Narcissa's teacup gently clicked onto her saucer. It was a cue of sorts, for Pigle arrived and removed the cups and plates.

Lucius rose abruptly and bowed to the room in general. "Draco, you will show _Mr_. Potter the grounds. That should be sufficient exposure to our wards. I will be in my study until dinner should anyone require me."

No one spoke until Narcissa announced Lucius had entered his study.

Malfoy rose and paced the length of the room.

"You mentioned _incidents_. Is this more than speaking to snakes, then?" Harry's stomach twisted a little further as the corners of Narcissa's false smile turned grim.

"It started with insignificant, small acts of unnecessary cruelty: physically towards the house-elves, verbally towards us. They have grown progressively worse." Her eyes flickered to Malfoy, telling Harry plenty. "Recently, there have been surges of unexplained magic in the Manor. I thought his magic, with no wand for an outlet, was becoming uncontrolled."

"And now?"

"Now I believe he is methodically testing its strength."

Malfoy stopped pacing directly in front of Harry and Narcissa. "Mother, we should be going. I must walk Potter about the grounds soon. Father will be looking for us." Turning to Harry, Malfoy explained, "Father's study has a view of the majority of the rear grounds. He will be expecting your inspection to begin immediately."

"Of course." Harry stood, and to Narcissa said, "I'll start some research tonight."

"Thank you." Narcissa nodded curtly and left the room without a backwards glance.

  
**~o~**   


The wind snuck through the seams of Draco's clothing and bit at his skin. He was grateful for his heavy cloak and thick gloves. A tour of the grounds would take a couple hours, and within minutes their noses were pink and their lips chapped.

He provided the barest details of the Protection Wards, answering Potter's inquiries in terse, one word responses. Potter nodded and continued walking, seemingly oblivious to Draco's curtness. When Potter did catch his eye, Draco quickly looked away.

"Tell me Malfoy, is this really something serious?" Potter gave a little smirk. "Or is your mother overreacting?"

Draco considered Potter for a moment. "She is not overreacting," he muttered into the breeze, pulling his scarf tighter.

It was clearly the answer Potter had expected, for he continued without so much as a nod. "Then what's your problem, Malfoy? It's obvious you don’t want help, or is it just me you don’t want helping?"

Draco walked a few paces, his boots sinking into the muck of soft grass and melting snow. Potter waited silently behind. "These problems are ours to deal with and no one outside the family should be brought in. We can handle this ourselves."

"I see." Potter nodded, as if it were possible for an orphan to understand family and how they looked out for each other. "And what if it's Voldemort?"

Draco felt the question travel the distance between them like a Stinging Hex. He felt the slightest tingle in his fingers, but the attack simmered beneath the surface.

Potter trudged forward through the slush. "What if the reason your father has been acting this way is because Voldemort is trying to use him to return?"

"Is that possible?" Draco's heart raced.

"I don't know." Potter shrugged, as if that were an acceptable response. "I believed Voldemort was dead until an hour ago. But he might have found a way. Are you willing to risk Voldemort returning? Controlling your family again?"

Draco stood paralyzed, not feeling the icy wet seeping into his boots. A dozen images flooded his mind: Burbage twirling above his dining room table, the Dark Lord screaming at Draco to Crucio a Blood Traitor, and his mother weeping in the corner of the parlour after she’d found out Draco had succeeded. He could hear the screams when Yaxley had pulled the fingernails off a nine-year-old Mudblood, feel the tremor in his spine when he spotted Greyback waiting in the shadows. They were thoughts he’d banished long ago. Draco clutched his chest and willed the memories away and his pulse to calm.

"You think about that, Malfoy. Meanwhile, I'll look into whether or not it's possible." Potter began walking, testing the wards with a casual swish of his wand.

  
**~o~**   


Harry's footsteps were heavy as he followed Pigle down the path to the Manor's main entrance. He and Ron had been at Hermione's until the early hours of the morning. They had discussed Horcruxes and souls and possessions, recounted those harrowing months, wondering what they could have missed. They had theorized until finally the answer was so obvious Hermione was crushed that she hadn't thought of it years ago.

As he had arrived home at the crack of dawn, an owl waited for him – Robards demanding an immediate explanation for his leaving work without notifying his superior. Harry had snorted at the thought of Dawlish being anyone's superior and had tossed the missive on the kitchen table to deal with later.

Narcissa and Malfoy were waiting for him in the parlour again. Malfoy looked startled as Harry entered the room. Harry ran a hand through his hair. He hadn't slept or shaved or showered. He could only imagine the sight he made. Both Malfoys sank onto a settee looking like he was about to announce their sentencing.

"Lucius?" Harry asked.

Narcissa raised her chin and answered simply, "My husband is in his study and will likely be there for another hour."

Harry nodded and whipped out his wand. Malfoy flinched. Harry spun around the room with a determination that set the entire room momentarily alive with magic.

"Silencing Charm and a Detection Charm. I need to be sure that Lucius is not monitoring this room," he explained.

"You forget, Auror Potter, Lucius is wandless."

"And you, Mrs. Malfoy, told me yourself that you believe he is testing the powers of his magic. I don't believe we can afford to underestimate what Lucius Malfoy is and isn't capable of at the moment."

Narcissa's face froze in an emotionless mask. "What have you discovered?"

Harry sat. "What do you know of the night that Voldemort killed my parents?"

If Narcissa thought the question unexpected, she showed no sign of it. "The Dark Lord murdered your father first, then your mother. He cast the Killing Curse on you, but somehow you survived and the Dark Lord disappeared."

Malfoy nodded in agreement.

"Right. So, my mother protected me with her life and in turn placed a protection on me. When Voldemort cast the Killing Curse, it rebounded on him." Harry took a deep breath, trying to get through the explanation with clear facts and little emotion. "The big secret behind my connection to Voldemort was that a piece of his soul escaped and entered the only living person around. Me. I lived with him inside me, protecting him, for sixteen years. The problem I faced during the battle of Hogwarts was: how to kill Voldemort if part of him lived in me. So I entered the Forbidden Forest and allowed him to cast the Killing Curse on me. As you know, his _Avada Kedavra_ did not kill me. What Voldemort did was kill the part of his soul in me."

Both Narcissa and Malfoy's eyes were focused on him. Narcissa was unnaturally still and Malfoy fidgeted restlessly. He ran his palms along the seams of his black wool trousers until Narcissa discreetly laid a hand on his arm. After that his fingers twitched, but otherwise he was still.

Harry continued, "Later that morning, Voldemort cast the Killing Curse on me again in the Great Hall. This time I defended myself. Because I had the mastery of his wand, the curse rebounded. But what if another fraction of his shattered soul escaped again?"

"Dear Merlin!" Narcissa's hand flew to her mouth, a mirror image of Hermione's expression as she had realised the possibility.

"What if it was freed in a room full of people? Who would it seek out? The most familiar person in the room?"

"No!" Narcissa squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

"But I think you figured it out already, at least partly. That's why you contacted me before anyone else."

Narcissa rose and stood by the large stone hearth, her hand upon the mantel and her back to the room. Malfoy followed her and placed a hand on her shoulder. Her posture softened, and she raised her free hand to rest upon his. The moment of simple affection took Harry aback – Malfoy gently, wordlessly consoling his mother. He was strong for her, though his own hands were trembling.

Malfoy said abruptly, "Potter, we should make the rounds of the wards. If Father finds us here again, it would look suspicious."

Harry nodded, and they left Narcissa to her thoughts.

  
**~o~**   


The temperature had dropped further. Potter cast a string of Warming Charms on them both as they stepped out the front door.

Draco considered saying something like, 'I'm capable of doing my own third year Warming Charms, thank you very much, Potter', but at the moment he didn't quite think he could manage a first year _Wingardium Leviosa._

The frozen grass cracked beneath their feet; it was the only sound for the first twenty minutes of their tour. Draco's mind played Potter's explanation over and over. Potter's connection with the Dark Lord had always been a blurry sort of knowledge. The details were now etched in his brain, impossible to ignore. The possibility that his father was similarly _infected_ was horrifying. Draco shivered.

Potter glanced over at him and renewed both their Warming Charms.

"There's more," Draco blurted out. "There are things I kept from Mother."

Potter nodded for Draco to continue.

"There have been animals, all close to the woods. It started small: mice, voles, rabbits. At first I thought it was a weasel. Then a month ago, I found a fox."

"Killed?"

"Mutilated. Barely recognisable." Draco's throat ached as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "The amount of blood from such a small animal…"

"Yeah." Potter's eyes drifted to an eagle flying overhead.

"But the fox was large enough that I recognized the hex."

Potter's eyes darted back to Draco.

"Sectumsempra."

"Snape's curse?" Harry's eyebrows rose.

"It was hardly his alone."

"He invented it."

"Delightful. Anyway, it was very popular with the Dark Lord." Draco pulled his lapels tight to his neck and turned back towards the house.

Potter jogged to catch up.

"The latest was a peacock," Draco explained as they reached the gazebo. "Practically at our doorstep."

Potter ran up the few steps and inspected the spotless floor and immaculate latticework. Draco remained on the stone walk, his feet refusing to go any further.

"Pigle repainted the night before you arrived. He had to Banish the snow all around, there was so much blood." Draco's voice trailed off.

His eyes stung; he squeezed them shut. His chest tightened, and he gripped the outer rail until the new paint began to give beneath his fingers. A strangled gasp escaped before he could regain any composure.

And then a warm, strong hand wrapped around his wrist, squeezing it gently and bringing him back. Draco was mortified at how _safe_ it felt.

"He is my father," he said softly.

"I'm sorry."

"He is still my father, damn you."

"Malfoy." Potter's grip on his wrist tightened further. "Malfoy, I will do everything I can."

Draco opened his eyes to look at Potter, blinking past the unshed tears, but a movement at the window caught his attention. His father stood in the parlour, watching. As their gazes met, his father's eyes flashed red and he moved away from the window. Draco pulled his hand from Potter's grasp.

Potter's eyes were on the window, alive with determination. He smiled grimly at Draco and tentatively touched his shoulder. "I believe Voldemort may be very close to being in complete control, but it would help if I could use your library to confirm my theory. And I think I should stay at the Manor tonight. You and your mother should not be alone with him."

Draco stepped away from the touch. "Do you know how to get the Dark Lord out of him?"

Potter looked at him but did not answer. A deep line had settled between his brows that hadn't been there earlier.

  
**~o~**   


Harry spent the evening in the Manor library, opting for sandwiches for supper and dusty tomes for company. The research didn't go well. Harry was convinced Lucius would act soon. The testing Lucius had been doing was revealing too much and to perform a wandless Sectumsempra on a peacock would take extraordinary power. Voldemort had to be close to completely controlling Lucius to be taking such risks. The Manor library confirmed only one theory – that a fractured soul was more vulnerable to possession than a whole one. Harry's innocence had kept Voldemort from having any power over him beyond visions. Considering Lucius' less benevolent history, Voldemort might already be in control.

Harry would have to involve the Aurors soon. He'd received another owl. Apparently, by 'immediately' Robards didn't mean 'after the weekend'. Yet with the prospect of Voldemort returning, it hardly seemed important. Even the threat of suspension hadn't made Harry flinch.

He grabbed another book from the pile on his nightstand and settled against his pillow just as a soft knock came from the door.

The door opened, and a shirtless Draco entered. Harry smiled. For a moment that morning there had seemed something between them. Draco had dropped his guard, allowed the conflict and pain to show, had allowed Harry to comfort him. Later, Harry had wondered how much of that was just in his head.

"Draco," Harry said, surprising himself at the choice of first name.

Draco walked slowly into the room. "I … I couldn't sleep," he stuttered. The candlelight flickered across his naked chest, tinting his skin a soft orange.

A tingle began in Harry's stomach. "All right."

Draco glided onto the bed. Heat rising in his cheeks, Harry scurried over to make room.

"You make me feel safe, _Harry_ ," Draco whispered and placed a hand on Harry's thigh. Harry squeaked and shifted further over. There was an odd look in Draco's eyes. Harry couldn't place it. Despite his words Draco was utterly calm, almost distant.

Before Harry could contemplate it further, Draco's hand moved up his thigh and soft lips pressed lightly against his own. Harry's eyes fell shut. The short stubble on Draco's chin scratched against his own. He smelled of expensive cologne and lightly of sweat. Harry waited patiently to part his lips and discover the taste of Draco's mouth – would it be sour from the wine he'd likely had with supper or maybe bitter from an evening tea?

"You always make me feel so safe," Draco said against his lips. "Let me stay–" kiss "–here with you–" kiss "–just for tonight." The searing heat of Draco's hand burned through Harry's thin cotton pyjamas. His warm, wet tongue slid along Harry's bottom lip, making Harry's head spin.

Draco's voice was all wrong, far too flat. Placing a hand on each of Draco's shoulders, Harry urged him backwards. Draco wouldn't budge. Harry struggled for breath. His mind and body warred.

Draco slid further onto the bed, pressing Harry onto his back, peppering him with kisses.

Through the haze of arousal, Harry knew something wasn't right. This needy Draco was impossible to reconcile with the stubborn, reserved man Harry had seen in the last few days. And yet, the temptation to ignore any apprehension was great.

Draco crawled up onto the bed and straddled Harry. In the dimly lit room a shadow hid Draco's expression, while Draco's body, hovering above Harry, glowed in the pale light. Draco was too thin, but his arms were strong. Draco's left hand rested on Harry's chest, forearm turned to display the ugly black stain of the Dark Mark.

"I want you, Harry." Draco rolled his hips, grinding against Harry. Harry gasped. "I want you inside me."

"Um." Harry's mind went blank. Draco gave him no time to think. A finger hooked at his waistband and began to tug.

"Malfoy, wait –" Harry grabbed Draco's hand.

As Draco shifted, his face moved into the candlelight. Draco stared blankly at the headboard, his hips moving in a slow rhythm over Harry's crotch. The expression was simply _empty_ , as if his mind was disconnected from his actions.

Harry felt bile begin to rise in his throat, and the puzzle pieces fell into place. He fumbled for his wand on the nightstand.

" _Finite Incantante Imperio._ "

Draco pressed himself further down, oblivious to Harry's panic. Harry growled and flipped them both over. He focused and said sharply, " _Finite Incantante Imperio_."

Draco blinked up at Harry in confusion, his eyes finally losing their glossy, vacant gaze. Harry could see the exact moment when the Imperius dissolved and conscious thought came flooding back. The haunted look returned. Harry almost regretted ripping Draco from that bliss.

  
**~o~**   


Draco's mind was sluggishly returning; he clung to the last vestiges of the Imperius. The clarity of his one simple task had been a respite. He looked at Potter's wide green eyes just inches from his. It wasn't even so painful a task. He could fall into it so easily again. Potter was on top of him and they were both hard and sweating. Their groins pressed together, only two thin layers of pyjamas between them. But as the Imperius faded, shame replaced it.

He blushed and squirmed out of Potter's grasp then pulled the covers into his lap.

"Tell me what happened," Potter asked.

"It was Father." He looked up at Potter and caught the deep red of his cheeks. Draco probably looked similar. He laid back and rested his forearm over his eyes. What he'd just done, what he had nearly done… His body still tingled from the contact. Potter was so close, his thigh touching Draco's shin. Potter was waiting patiently beside him. Draco licked his lips. They tasted of Potter, the sharp tang of minty toothpaste. He wasn't sure why that made him feel a little better.

"But why, though? Why would he go through the trouble of placing you under Imperius only to have you _seduce_ me? _Kill_ me, I could see."

The idea was ludicrous. Draco had been a failure since he was sixteen. Potter had killed the Dark Lord.

"I couldn't kill you, even if I had a wand." Draco looked up at Potter as the memory came back to him: his father inviting him to the study after supper, the power of the wandless Imperius grabbing him, the helpless feel of his own hand offering his wand. "He has my wand! He'll deal with Mother then come here. He wanted us… distracted."

Draco's throat closed up. He gasped for breath, trying to voice the last of the revelations. Potter was speaking adamantly to him, probably asking how he knew, what else he knew, but Draco had no breath to waste on speaking. _Not now_ , Draco pleaded to himself. _Not now_. But his fingers were already numb; there was no stopping the attack without the Calming Draft. He felt the tingle crawl further up his arm, dragging him deeper out of control.

Searing hot hands cupped his face. Potter was close again, his eyes bright and panicked, directly in front of Draco's. Their noses were a hair-breadth apart. Potter was whispering to him. Draco could just hear over the rush of blood thundering in his ears, things like 'stay with me, Draco' and 'we'll stop him' and 'I won't let him hurt your mother.'

It penetrated the fog. Draco believed. Harry Potter could save them, could save her. The ache in his chest began to dissipate and Potter kept talking.

Finally, Draco nodded and whispered, "Thank you."

Potter smiled, wide and a little goofy. He moved back, but only marginally. "Are you okay?"

"I think so."

"Good. Catch your breath. I'm going to find your father." Potter darted from the room.

  
**~o~**   


Harry's footfalls echoed loudly through the empty halls of Malfoy Manor. The portraits gasped and shouted at him. The torches lit as he passed, filling the corridor behind him with light and making the path ahead seem even darker.

He raced up the stairs to the south wing, heading for Lucius and Narcissa's chambers.

Waiting those few extra minutes for Malfoy's attack to pass had cost precious time. If Lucius had planned to kill Narcissa and then to find Harry and Draco (oh God – in mid-coital distraction), then he would be acting now. Harry cursed himself for not recognizing the Imperius immediately. He was trained for that. Except too much of Harry had wanted it to be true, had not wanted to resist the seduction.

A scream echoed through the hall, but it was cut short by a Silencing Charm.

Harry made it to the door but was stopped short. The door wouldn't open for him.

He took a deep breath and began to work through every spell he knew to remove wards. Nothing was working. He couldn't even reach for the door handle; it was like an invisible wall had been erected in front of the entrance. One spell managed to remove the Silencing Charm, and he could hear muffled shouting behind the door.

Behind him, he heard the _thud, thud_ of racing footsteps, then Malfoy skidded around the corner. "I heard a scream."

"It was from your mother's room, but I can't get through the door."

Draco reached past him through the ward and touched the door knob. "Dark Mark barrier," Draco whispered, mostly to himself. He moved to push past Harry.

Harry grabbed his shoulder. "Take it down. I can't get through."

"I can't. I don't know the counter-spell," Draco's mouth gaped a little and it seemed to dawn on him then – he was going in alone to face his father.

Harry pressed his holly wand into Draco's hand. "You'll need this, then." He tightened his grip on Draco's shoulder.

Draco seemed frozen, staring at the wand. A muffled scream came from the room, and his face hardened.

  
**~o~**   


Draco swung the door wide and entered. His mother was curled upon herself on the bed, his father above her. Lucius was shouting, his hands shaking and his mouth spitting through his rant.

"You filthy wench, you think you can defy me!" his father sneered, spittle gathering about his lips. He raised his wand and shouted, " _Crucio_!" His mother's body thrashed about the bed, twisting awkwardly as the curse hit her.

Back stiff and chin high – without shirt or socks – Draco strode across the room. "Father." He choked on the word.

His father's attention shifted, first to Draco then to Harry. His eyes flared red.

Draco's steps faltered but he raised his wand; his hand shook.  


  


  


His father's face contorted with a cruel, mocking laugh. "A failure, even now. You can't even play the whore." With a quick snap of his wand, his father shouted, " _Sectumsempra_!"

Draco dodged and dove behind a hope chest. He cried out as the hex grazed his thigh. " _Protego_ ," Draco said as he clutched his leg. The heat from the blood warmed his hand.

His father fired off several more spells in quick succession. Draco's Shield Charm held.

He wiped his damp forehead with the back of his hand and tried to clear his head. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Potter was the hero; Draco was the failure. A groan from the bed caught his attention.

"Mother," he whispered. "Are you all right?"

She turned her head towards Draco and collapsed. A trickle of blood flowed from her nose, leaking onto the white coverlet. Draco's chest twisted in rage. He struggled to stand, leaning heavily on his good leg. He raised his wand, but hesitated still.

"Pathetic! Even to save your mother you are impotent." Staring directly into Draco's eyes, his father smiled. It was broken and cruel and looked nothing like the man who had raised Draco. " _Avada Kedavra_."

Draco ducked and tumbled. His left shoulder hit the floor hard. But his right hand held his wand steady. Draco looked up and saw only a monster standing above him. He could not fail in this. As with the Imperius, all else faded. His path was clear. " _Avada Kedavra_!"

The room flashed with green. His father fell, eyes wide and blank.

There was a clatter as Potter's wand hit the floor. Draco tried to stand. He needed to go over to the body, to see the truth of what he'd done. He didn't manage a single step before he crumbled to his knees with a sob, his face buried in his trembling hands. The barrier must have dropped. Potter was at his side. Fingers dug into Draco's shoulders as Potter held him.

His leg was still bleeding, soaking his trousers and staining the floor, yet Draco felt nothing. They stayed like that a long time, until a movement on the bed reminded him of matters more urgent than his grief.

  


**~o~**   


Harry looked around the Head Auror's office: the massive wood desk, ornately carved, the large faux-window that overlooked a busy London street, the awards and the certificates of distinction. This was what he had wanted. He had wanted to work hard, save lives, make a difference, battle evil, be the best. Whatever sacrifices he had to make, he would do it and end up here. Behind that desk. His name on those plaques.

Somewhere along the line Harry had forgotten why. Why exactly he would be willing to 'do anything' to be an Auror, the _best_ Auror. He had lost himself to the dream.

Robards stepped into his office, kicked the door shut with his heel and waved a parchment at Harry. " _This_ is your statement on the happenings at Malfoy Manor?"

"It is, sir." Harry squirmed in his chair.

"And you believe, Auror- _in-training_ Potter, that your actions in these matters were that of an Auror or of an immature, attention-seeking young man who is desperate to relive his glory-filled teenage years?"

"With all due respect, sir –"

"Due respect? You haven't shown 'due respect' to anyone in this office since you came on board four years ago. Did you pay me due respect by getting involved with these _Malfoys_? Did you pay Dawlish due respect when you left work without completing the task he assigned you?"

Harry said nothing; Robards was absolutely right. Any respect Harry had for his superiors or the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had been lost through the years of humiliation and bullying. _Auror_ was no longer a title Harry would be proud to call his own.

"Do you have nothing to say? Going to sulk like the schoolboy you are?"

"No, sir. There will be no sulking." Harry stood, shoulders back and chin raised. "I am tendering my resignation, effective immediately."

As Harry reached for the door, he said over his shoulder, "To avoid any _miscommunication_ , a copy of my resignation will be sent to the _Prophet_ and the Minister. I suggest you prepare for questions."

  


**~o~**   


Draco made his way through the muddy walk. The weather had warmed, and a gentle breeze promised spring would come in short order. The garden was soft and wet, but still barren. In a few weeks the bright green leaves of the crocuses would break through the dormant soil.

It had been seven days since he had killed his father. The frantic list of _things to be endured_ – the statements to the Aurors, to the press, the private funeral – had eaten away the days but had barely left him time for true pain and guilt.

Draco entered the gazebo and sat. The Manor had become stifling, grief heavy in the air. His mother had chipped a teacup at breakfast. When Draco had cast a _Reparo_ , she left the room, breath hitching.

He heard the stomp of heavy boots approaching, but did not look up until the muck-covered tips were placed on either side of his sodden leather shoes. Potter was standing over him, brow furrowed and lips turned down.

"Are you all right?" he asked in that now familiar, concerned tone.

Draco stood and they were too close, suddenly breathing in each other's exhalations. Neither backed away. Their difference in height was exacerbated by the proximity; Draco's nose was at Potter's forehead, a few errant strands of Potter's hair grazing Draco's lips.

"I'm _brilliant_ ," Draco snapped, more harshly than he intended.

Potter backed away, but Draco caught his shoulder.

"Wait. Did your boss give you trouble?" It was pretty clear that at least half of the Aurors' questions had been to determine Potter's involvement in the case. Both Draco and his mother had done their best to defend the 'unofficial' aid.

Potter shrugged.

"I quit before they could." Potter smiled sheepishly and held up his hand. "No, it's fine. I saw it coming – another year of training or filing or something else ridiculous. I realised I didn't know why I was allowing it all. It's time I stood on my own."

Draco nodded. There was a lightness in Potter's voice that Draco envied. "What are you going to do?"

"Move on."

The simplicity of the answer made Draco smile. Harry smiled back and took Draco's hand.

Draco stared at the hand boldly entwined with his own. It was warm and strong. Draco's urge to pull away faded and he curled his fingers into the grasp. The ache in his chest lifted a little. He took a deep breath and focused on the coming spring.

  


**~fin~**   


**Author's Note:**

> [original livejournal post](http://hp10k-showcase.livejournal.com/7062.html)


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